Plan T for Torchwood
by MegK1978
Summary: An emissary has arrived at Torchwood Cardiff, for Captain Jack Harkness. She brings a recording, and a message: "Even the Doctor dances."  re-edited


"Plan T: for Torchwood"

Author's Notes: Am I the only one who wondered how Rose Tyler, who'd been in an alternate universe for over a year, knew about the Torchwood team, who was on it? Since she found a way to cross the Void without getting lost, why could she not do the same for someone else? I'm of the opinion that she had sent an emissary to Torchwood, and more specifically to Jack.

Spoilers up to "Exit Wounds" on Torchwood, and everything through Tennant's reign as The Doctor. The only one that's mine is Fran, and she's spoken for. :) Takes place before the Who ep "The Stolen Earth"; since no one's entered an opinion on the matter, an epilogue set during "Earth" has been canceled.

-TW-

The blonde hurried along Roald Dahl Plass, straightening her glasses on her nose and trying to keep a small backpack on her shoulder. She had already eschewed several places as good cover for a secret base and went straight to the tourist information office.

She barged in to find a young man trying to dust and tidy up the small space. He looked at the newcomer warily. "May I help you?" he asked in his Welsh accent.

"I hope so, handsome," she replied, internally wincing at how painfully obvious her American accent was in the middle of Cardiff. "I need to make face-to-face contact with Captain Jack Harkness. Call him if you have to, I'll wait." She swiped the back of her hand across her brow. "And may I please have some water? I just finished a five-mile fast walk." As if to illustrate her fatigue, she half-collapsed into the only other chair in the room.

The young man first gave her a cold bottle of water, half of which she downed in one go. She closed her eyes to rest, so she heard rather than saw him activate and speak into his Bluetooth. Another minute or two passed before she heard heavy boots stop in front of her.

Her eyes slowly opened, and she wasn't shy about ogling the man before her. Dressed in vintage 1940s clothes, complete with suspenders, he looked every inch the dashing hero: blue eyes, dark-blond hair, and a jawline that wouldn't quit, with a cleft chin. Standing, she purposely lifted her glasses to gaze at him, lowering them again, and smiled. "Oh captain, my captain, descriptions of you just _do not_ do you justice."

The young man in the suit exchanged a silent look with someone behind the hero, a black-haired, green-eyed woman.

"Thanks, I think," the hero, who could only be Jack Harkness, replied.

The blonde finished the water before speaking again. "I'm sorry I had to come here so blatantly, but I was dropped _five miles_ away. I was lucky to get here without resorting to hitching a ride. It really doesn't bode well for my mission. Or _any_ mission in the future, come to think of it."

He held up his hand to stop her. "Maybe you should start from the beginning?"

The blonde took a breath and nodded, realizing she had been babbling. She drew to attention and snapped a sharp salute. "Captain Harkness." She waited for him to return the salute before standing at-ease. "My name is Francesca DiLeonardo. Please call me Fran, it's easier. I was sent to find you by the second-in-command of Torchwood."

"What the hell?" the dark-haired woman exclaimed in her own Welsh accent.

Fran saw Jack hold up a hand again, to stop his co-worker, and surmised that this woman was second at _this_ Torchwood.

"Not you, ma'am," Fran added, "obviously. But my Torchwood is on an alternate Earth."

She heard a sharp, quiet gasp from the young man and glanced in his direction, only to see reflections of ghosts in his blue eyes. She could only guess that he had been at Canary Wharf almost two years ago, when Cybermen and Daleks were rampant. Fran herself had managed to avoid conversion, "upgrading", in her own dimension, so she understood his reaction.

"So who exactly sent you?" Captain Harkness asked. "And who described me so inadequately?" He grinned widely, adding dimples and charm to her mental list of dashing qualities.

She now winced in frustration at these questions. "I can't tell you." At their confused looks, she added, "She gave me a very complicated, technobabble explanation, but short version: if I say her name, our two universes could implode. But she told me how to bona fide myself to you, prove who sent me." She pulled a small music player from her pack. "She said to play you this, and tell you .. that even the Doctor dances." She activated the player, the big-band music pouring out of the tiny speaker:

"Moonlight Serenade".

Jack jerked, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my God," he whispered.

Fran had imagined the scene every time her boss had told the story: the invisible warship tethered in the shadow of Big Ben, bombs falling all around, dancing to this very song while the charming captain, thinking she was someone else, attempted to con her.

The two other members of Torchwood watched in amazement as their leader cried with joy and wonder, when for days his only tears had come from grief.

Jack suddenly swept Fran up in a bear hug, startling a laugh from her. She felt his tears land on her shoulder and soak into her shirt. She heard him say thank you again and again. She smiled, stroked his hair, and just said, "You're welcome."

After a few moments, they heard a throat clearing and separated to turn to the others. "Sorry," Jack apologized to the room at large. He turned to Fran and quickly made introductions. "Gwen Cooper"—he gestured to the woman, then the suited man— "and Ianto Jones."

Gwen finally smiled, revealing the small gap in her teeth, happy to see Jack smile again, to see something other than sadness in the wake of so much death. Ianto was more reserved, as he was around new people, especially those Jack hugged or kissed on a first meeting.

"Well, it seems only fair that you see our version of Torchwood." Jack held out an arm. "Shall we give you the tour?"

Surprised at the gentlemanly gesture, Fran put her hand to his elbow and let him lead her into the elevator and along the labyrinthine hallway to the cog door of the Hub. As the entrance rolled open, Fran looked up in awe at the _space_ of Torchwood Cardiff. Her jaw dropped open as something flew overhead. "Was that—a _dinosaur_?"

Jack grinned. "Yup."

"You have a pet _dinosaur_! This place is _so_ much cooler than my office. _We_ don't have a dinosaur." She turned to see the trio's amused expressions. "I officially have pterodactyl envy."

Even Ianto laughed at the one-liner.

Fran took in the headquarters from where she stood, noting that the rest of the water tower from outside was part of the center. The place and, even more, the people were truly amazing, persevering through the terrorist bombings that had rocked Cardiff. But she had a feeling that the Torchwood Hub had its share of ghosts, and recent ones, too, that still meant a great deal to the three left behind.

Jack cleared his throat to draw her attention back to them. "You said there was a reason you're here, that she..." He winced. "_You_ can say her name, but can I?"

Fran frowned. "I wish I knew for sure, but I don't. Best to err on the side of caution, and wait until I've gone back."

Jack nodded and continued. "You said there was a reason she sent you to us."

She nodded and took a breath. "She sent me to warn you: the stars are doing out. Not just in our world, but in all worlds." She swallowed nervously. "There's a Darkness coming, Captain. It's what allowed me to cross to this dimension in the first place. From what we've determined on our side—"

She jumped at the blaring alarm that interrupted her. Gwen dived to a computer station, fingers tapping the keyboard. "Jack, Rift spike in Aberystwyth. Looks like it's an actual alien."

"Let's go!" Jack tossed Ianto the keys to ready the SUV and checked his beloved Webley revolver. He glanced at Fran, grinning a devil-may-care grin. "Wanna ride along?"

Fran returned the grin. "Oh yeah! But you better give me a weapon, or I might as well go out in the field naked."

-TW-

Fran was in the backseat beside Ianto, checking the magazine and racking back the slide of her borrowed automatic. "I am _so_ telling Acquisitions we're being outclassed in weaponry."

"Just wait until you see what we're dealing with," Gwen countered from the passenger seat.

"And how we deal with it," Jack added from behind the wheel. "It's case-by-case, mostly."

Gwen's mobile let out a series of tweets. She yanked it from her pocket and checked the Caller ID. "It's Andy," she said, answering the call.

Fran shot a questioning look at Ianto. "Her old partner on the police force," he explained. "He's become something of a contact for us since the bombings."

"All right, Andy, thanks," Gwen said into her phone. "We're on the way." She hung up and addressed the SUV at large. "Andy's getting reports of a large cat dressed in leathers and carrying swords." When she told Jack the street where the calls had come from, he executed a sharp, hard turn and stomped on the accelerator.

-TW-

Jack slammed on the brakes, bouncing everyone against their seat belts. "Whoa, okay, _that's_ new."

They all looked out the front windshield to see what he meant. A two-meter-tall cat-like humanoid stood in the middle of the street, dressed in tight brown leather and bristling with swords and knives, yowling at the top of its lungs. They poured out of the vehicle, drawing weapons. "What do you think?" Jack asked.

"Jack, I think I might be able to communicate with it," Fran replied.

They all blinked at her. "You can speak cat?" Gwen asked.

"Well, I've encountered a few like him back home. Only problem is, I don't speak the little they've taught me very well. It's hard on the throat."

"Okay, Gwen and I will circle around him," Jack decided. "Ianto, stay and back up Fran, keep his attention on you." Jack and Gwen backed away and broke off as Ianto and Fran crept cautiously from behind the SUV to approach.

The alien's green eyes narrowed at them. Ianto heard Fran swallow nervously before clearing her throat. For a moment, Ianto heard some very interesting sounds coming from her, including hissing, yowls and snarls. After she'd said her piece, they waited for a response.

Ianto had no time to react, because the next thing he heard was Fran's scream of _"No!",_ followed quickly by her falling heavily into his arms, her knees giving out, making him drop his gun.

He lowered them both to the ground, his panic rising at the sight of a dagger hilt protruding from her belly. "Oh no, no, no, Fran!" he exclaimed. He cradled her body in his lap. "Fran, no!" he whispered, barely registering the gunfire from his teammates. She looked at him with wide eyes, her pupils dilating.

She swallowed again. "Ianto, I'm sorry," she said weakly, her voice laced with pain. "I screwed up."

"No, don't say that." He smiled through his fear for her. "You saved my life. How could that be screwing up? Just say with us, okay? Stay with us." He raised his voice to a near-scream. "Jack! Gwen!"

The captain arrived first, kneeling on Fran's other side and smiling. "You know, Fran, there _are_ easier ways to get our attention than this."

Fran returned the smile. "If I thought this would get your attention any faster, I'd've bought a dummy knife and played dead in the tourist office," she retorted breathlessly. "Can you imagine Ianto's face if I'd pulled that off?" She tried to laugh, but it came out as a huff of pain.

Ianto felt tears burn his eyes. "Oh God, Fran, don't joke." He looked up. "Jack, I wasn't fast enough."

She grabbed a lapel of his suit jacket and tugged hard. Her eyes now burned with anger as well as pain. "Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this," she hissed. "This is n-_not_ your f-fault. Oh sh—" Her voice faded, her eyes rolled back, and she slumped against his body, suddenly dead weight in arms.

"No, Fran, no!" Ianto screamed desperately. He'd lost so many since he'd joined Torchwood: his friends at Canary Wharf, Lisa, Tosh, Owen, even Susie. He didn't want to lose this girl, barely as old as himself, because he'd been too slow.

"Ianto! _Ianto!_" Jack had to yell to get his attention. "She's breathing, her pulse is still good. Gwen's called Andy, he'll get us priority at the nearest A&E, and Gwen's getting the car." He cupped Ianto's face in his hands. "Right now, I need you to concentrate on keeping the wound from getting worse. Can you do that?"

Ianto should have thought it strange that his lover could calm him as easily as he made him lose control. But right now, he was just grateful he had something to distract him from his volatile emotions. "Yes, Jack, I can do that." His mind started ticking, recalling everything he'd learned of first aid and field medicine in the last couple of years. Careful not to shift Fran too much, he fished out a clean handkerchief and pressed it to the wound, holding the blade between his fingers to keep it still.

Jack helped Ianto get Fran into the back seat as Gwen drove up. As soon as Fran was settled, still unconscious in Ianto's lap, they drove off, leaving the dead alien in the street.

-TW-

The doctors and nurses at St. John's Hospital's A&E unit practically had to pry Fran from Ianto's desperate grip onto a gurney. They also had to bar them from the exam room so they could work. That had been two hours ago.

Jack and Gwen did their best to calm and reassure Ianto, still blaming himself for what had happened to their new friend. They'd had to tell the doctors that the blood on Ianto's hands and kerchief wasn't his. Jack silently held him, while Gwen cleaned Ianto's hands using alcohol-soaked wipes provided by a sympathetic nurse. Unbidden, the memory of Jack doing the same for Gwen rose up in his mind, when Billis Manger had stabbed Rhys and... no, he wouldn't think about that. _Oh hell, I'm_ not _gonna cry!_ he scolded himself. _Don't you dare cry!_

They heard the doctor approach and leapt to their feet. He was a man in his late-40s with dark-blond hair starting to silver at the temples. "Are you the ones who brought in my stabbing victim?" he asked in a North-London accent.

"That's us," Jack replied.

"How is she?" Gwen asked.

"Damn lucky is what she is. If that knife had penetrated any deeper, she would have bled out before you could have gotten her here." He tucked the chart he was carrying under one arm. "As it is, she needed stitches, and is resting right now. We'd like to keep her until morning for observation. Does she have any family close by?"

"We're Torchwood, doctor," Jack explained. "She's a visiting colleague. We'll be acting in her family's stead until she goes home."

"Ah." The doctor smiled, seemingly amused at Cardiff's openly-secret organization. "Well, her own doctor can remove the stitches in fourteen days. Tell me you at least took care of the bugger who tried to impale my patient."

"She wasn't his target." Everyone turned to Ianto as he said the words with anguish and guilt. "He was aiming for me. She stepped in front of me, took the blade..." A tear snaked down his cheek.

"I'm sorry." The doctor pulled Fran's glasses from a pocket. "Perhaps you should hold on to these for her."

Ianto carefully took the spectacles, noting how smudged they were. He made a mental note to clean them before returning them.

Jack and Gwen exchanged a look before she spoke. "Ianto, why don't you stay here, be there for Fran when she wakes?"

The archivist blinked at the suggestion. "What about the alien we left behind? All the people that need Retcon—"

"We'll take care of all that," Jack interrupted. "You can always double-check our work later." He put his hands on Ianto's shoulders and squeezed gently. "Tonight _was not _your fault," he said firmly, "but you need this as much as she does, reassure yourself she's okay, right?"

Ianto nodded with a rueful little smile.

Jack brushed lips with his lover. "I'll be back once we've finished cleaning up."

Gwen gave Ianto another hug of reassurance, kissing his cheek, before following Jack out.

-TW-

Fran knew, intellectually at least, that she'd passed out from the knife wound. She also felt embarrassed; she always thought she had an abnormally low threshold for pain. On the other hand, she'd never taken a thrown dagger to the belly before. She'd acted like _such_ a girl!

Her spirit and mind seemed to go on walkabout from her body, a twilight between sleep and wake where she wasn't sure what was real or a dream. She had held on to so many things: Ianto's voice, his beautiful Welsh vowels begging her to stay alive, promising her the best coffee she'd ever tasted; the dull sensation of a needle pulling sutures through her skin; the faint noises and antiseptic smells of a hospital during its night shift.

Slowly, very slowly, she came further awake, as if emerging from a deep ocean dive. She carefully drew in more air, testing how far she could expand her midsection before she felt the stitches pull. But most of all, she was aware of how _bright_ the sunlight was, even through her eyelids, especially when reflected off white hospital walls.

"Ah!" she groaned, lifting her hands to her eyes. "Bright, bright, way too bright." She heard the blinds close over the window beside her bed. Carefully lowering her hands, she blinked the spots from her eyes, noting everything had a fuzzy, furry quality.

"I think you'll need these." A hand appeared before her face, holding her glasses out to her.

Taking them in both hands, she slipped them back on her face, her sight smoothing into focus. She looked to see the owner of the hand and voice, sitting in an uncomfortable visitor's chair, his suit so rumpled he'd obviously slept in it. But she smiled in relief. "Ianto."

He gave her a little smile. "Hello."

"Hi. Are you okay?"

Ianto chuckled. "You're the one lying in a hospital bed and you're asking _me_ if _I'm_ all right?"

Fran grinned. "Well, a girl throws herself in front of a knife for you, she's got a vested interest in your well-being, you know?"

He nodded in understanding and replied. "I'm okay, thanks to you." His brows suddenly furrowed, his smile disappearing from his handsome face, his blue eyes narrowing at her. "Speaking of which, what the _hell_ were you thinking?"

His sudden change of mood startled her, his voice becoming sharper and his accent thicker. Being Italian, she replied just as sharply. "I was _thinking_ that you didn't deserve to die because of _my_ mistake, you Welsh idiot!"

"What do you mean?"

"I warned you that my knowledge of that language was shaky. I thought I said, 'Hail, warrior, none shall pull your tail.'" She winced in chagrin. "Now that I think about it, I think I actually said, 'Prepare to be neutered, mangy alley cat.'" She felt fresh guilt wash over her. "God, Ianto, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've put you in danger like that. Me and my big mouth."

"Hey, no, don't." He shifted to sit on the bed with her, taking her hand in his. "Stop it. We're all alive, that's what matters. Besides, we were in danger on a daily basis long before you came along. Don't think you're anything special."

She smiled at his deadpan delivery and squeezed his fingers trying to reassure herself. "Jack and Gwen?"

"They're okay, too. They went back to Aberystwyth to take care of the alien. We had to shoot."

She nodded, her free hand going to her wound. "And my prognosis?"

Ianto repeated what the doctor had told them. "I hope your boss won't be angry with you."

"No," she smiled. "I think she knows Jack, and me, well enough to know this wasn't entirely predicable."

"I'm just glad you made it with an impressive scar and a story to go with it." With that, Ianto tugged her into a gentle hug.

One sense-memory came back, making her smile into his shoulder: his arms holding her tightly, as if to help her keep hold of this world.

"Well, well, should I be jealous?"

The two separated to see Jack coming into the room, grinning mischievously, with an older man wearing a doctor's coat and carrying a chart.

Fran returned the grin. "That would depend on who you're asking," she teased back. "Jack, please tell me you're here to spring me?"

"The doc here's gonna take one last look at your stitches, then you can come with us."

"All right, Miss DiLeonardo," the doctor started. "I'm going to lift your gown—"

"Wait." Fran looked down the neck of her gown and nodded in satisfaction. "Just making sure I'm not flashing anyone." But she didn't want to see her own wound, not yet. She looked at Ianto, feeling squeamish and not wanting to voice it. "Could you hold my hand, please?" she whispered.

Ianto wordlessly interlaced his fingers with hers. Her body angled toward the doctor, Ianto's hand in a death grip, she squeezed her eyes shut as the older man gently checked her belly.

Jack whistled softly. "That'll be a scar with worth showing."

"Well, not for another two weeks," the doctor replied. He taped fresh gauze over the stitches before letting her gown fall back into place. "Now, it will be safe to shower, as long as it's gentle. And starting now, the gauze should be changed every thirty-six hours." He turned gentle brown eyes to Fran. "Have your doctor keep an eye on this."

Fran nodded. "Thank you, Doctor—?" She half-expected him to say "just 'the Doctor'."

"George Harper."

She felt Ianto, his hand still in hers, and saw Jack jerk in surprise.

Dr. Harper seemed to understand the reaction, because he added, "And no, there's no relation to Dr. _Owen_ Harper. Believe me, I've been asked the same question these last few weeks."

"Owen was a friend," Ianto explained briefly, quietly. Fran could still hear sadness and loss lacing his words.

Dr. Harper nodded. "My condolences."

"Thank you." Jack went to the cupboard to retrieve Fran's clothes. He clicked his tongue. "The jeans are all right, but your shirt's done for." He held up the article mentioned, now bloodied and ripped.

Fran scowled in dismay. "Damn, and I _liked_ that shirt!"

Ianto chuckled, carefully withdrew his hand, and draped his wrinkled suit jacket over her shoulders. "You and Gwen are about the same size," he observed. "I'll ask her if there's a shirt she wouldn't mind losing that she can give you."

She gave him a curious glance over her shoulder. "How do you—?"

Jack smiled. "Trust him, Fran. His father was a master tailor. Ianto's got the family eye."

She caught a lascivious undertone in that last statement and bit back a knowing smirk. "And you've put it to the test, I'm sure."

Jack's grin grew wide and wicked. "Oh, _absolutely_!"

Ianto blushed at the suggestive talk in front of a stranger. Whether it was Fran herself or the doctor he was embarrassed about, she wasn't sure.

-TW-

Now dressed in a worn concert T-shirt courtesy of Gwen, Fran stood before the survivors of Torchwood Cardiff. After everything she'd heard and witnessed, that was how she would forever think of them, surviving whatever the universe had to throw at them. She sketched one last salute to Jack. "Captain."

Jack smiled and shook his head. "I think we've gone beyond that. C'mere." He pulled her into a hug, careful of her injury. "Take care of yourself."

"And you, Jack. After all the stories I've heard, it's been an honor."

Jack released her so Gwen could have her turn. "Felt good having another woman around," the Welsh ex-cop confided.

Fran chuckled. "Don't ever stop caring, Gwen." When they parted from their embrace, Fran turned a gentle smile to Ianto.

The archivist blushed again. "Somehow, 'thank you' seems pretty inadequate for what you've gone through for me."

She glanced sideways, then at him again. "Just tell Jack not to be jealous."

He gave her a confused look. "Of what?"

"This." Grasping him by the knot of his tie, she gently pulled him into a sweet, chaste kiss. When she pulled back, she curled her lips over her teeth, as if to lock the taste of him into her memory. "You saved my life as much as I saved yours, Ianto Jones," she whispered. "And for that, there's not thanks enough in both our worlds."

Clearing her throat and trying not to blush herself, Fran took out a strange looking black disk with a big yellow button on it and hung around her neck. "No offense, but I hope I never see you again," she said with a smile.

"Can you take a message back from me?" Jack suddenly asked.

"Of course."

"Please tell her..." he grinned "tell her she's still worth fighting for."

Fran grinned, too; she knew what those words would mean to her boss. "I will," she promised. "Goodbye, and Godspeed." She blew them a kiss, using the same hand to hit the button. She disappeared in a warping of air and light.

They all stood there for a silent moment before Gwen could no longer contain herself. "Jack, who sent Fran to us? And who's still worth fighting for?"

Jack's grin remained on his face as the image of a South London ex-shopgirl became clear in his mind. "Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth."

**Review, please! **


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